


And Makes Me End Where I Begun

by writteninthestarsforlou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adult Language, Angst, Businessman Harry, Drugs, First Love, Fluff, I suck at tags, Implied/Referenced Alcoholism, M/M, Makeup Artist Louis, Rich Harry, Slow Burn, Smoking, Smut, there is so much angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 06:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14207571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninthestarsforlou/pseuds/writteninthestarsforlou
Summary: Harry Styles, a young man of extravagant wealth and blinding charm, is known for both his alluring mystery as well as his luxurious parties. No one truly knows of his past except for the people involved, and most of them have either forgotten his name or have passed on by now. However, when Louis Tomlinson, his first and only love, comes waltzing back into his life, he is put into a frantic state that has his life crumbling at the edges. Now, is that good or bad? He isn’t quite sure yet."I'm feeling feelings that I'd forgotten how to feel… but now that I’m remembering how wonderful they are... how could I have ever forgotten? Nevermind any of it. I’m just so deliriously happy that I've remembered, and that it's all because of you.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the poem "A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" by John Donne, which inspired the many aspects of this work. Please enjoy . xx

A [song](https://youtu.be/1mR6hPI5x18) that sounded suspiciously like a warning was playing throughout the foyer as leather shoes crossed the room, seemingly following the beat.

A low, rumbling voice hummed along to the deceivingly cheery tune, long legs making their way to the study just a few paces away. The music was bouncing from wall to wall in the mansion coming from said office where the french doors had been left wide open for such a purpose.

A broad palm clenched around a sweating glass of whiskey, cold condensation burning slightly against the skin, but the man in question paid it no mind as he strolled casually through the open doorways. The glass was set down on a stone coaster as not to leave rings on the sleek mahogany desk that he was currently walking around.

The man sank slowly into the office chair as he reached it, letting his voice trail off as he smoothed his hands down the grey flannel suit jacket he wore, sitting up with an almost uncomfortable looking degree of posture. Nevertheless, his nimble fingers wrapped around a simple ballpoint pen and began to write a series of numbers, business-related exchanges and that of the like.

Overall, Harry Styles was content.

As a man of business and victim of constant attention, Harry found no greater pleasure than in the comfort of his own office. The old record player drowned out the pessimistic musings of his deepest thoughts and the impending events that he was to be prepared for. Similar to nearly every evening, there was to be a grand party held at the Styles residence.

Harry Styles despised parties.

He often chuckled to himself over the irony of it. Once, some irrelevent time ago, he said as much to one of his guests who had simply replied with, “Then what’s the point in having them?” Harry had not produced an answer at the time. However, it occured to him then that he wasn’t even aware of who that man even was. He certainly hadn’t invited him, and the more he observed the alarmingly massive crowd of people in his backyard, he realized that he hardly knew any of them.

They weren’t even really his parties anymore. That much was certain.

However, Harry grew accustomed to his lifestyle and eventually just disregarded it as one would a tedious chore. He enjoyed himself from time to time, sure, but every night was the same. There was nothing exciting or worth his time. Well, not anymore.

It was devastatingly apparent to Harry that he had lost a part of himself when he purchased his estate. At the time, he was confident, sure of his decision. Now, he tends to long for something or someone from the past he so desperately tries to forget. Another irony is his life to ponder over, it seemed.

Harry’s pen stopped at the edge of the document he was signing, his mind racing as the music faded out. His brows pinched together, his jaw clenching. He glared at the whiskey glass in front of him as if it would bring to him a desire that even he couldn’t identify.

When he received no answer, Harry sighed and continued writing, filling up the silence with his brooding thoughts. He considered what it was in his life that was missing. What was the one thing that, if he were to obtain it, would allow him to regain his sanity? It would be the one thing that could fix everything; but the question still remained: _what was it_?

 _Who_ was it? A voice in Harry’s subconscious corrected him.

Harry felt his heart contract in his chest, watched numbly as his pen fell from his grasp with a soft thud and gave up on focusing on the papers in front of him. He massaged his left temple with his index and middle fingers, the pounding of an oncoming migraine making itself evident. He strained to hear the maids and butlers scurrying around the mansion, tidying up any imperfections and setting up all new drinks and God knows what. Harry stood up once more, knowing that trying to work in this state was pointless.

He walked out into the front room to cross to the living room, waving and smiling with tight lips at the employees that littered the first floor. He glanced up briefly to see a maid crouched by the upstairs banister, most likely scrubbing the baseboards. He waved to her as well as he passed by, walking under the opening of the den beneath the aforementioned stairs.

Windows lined the back wall, including another set of glass doors that led to the backyard. The sunlight poured onto the leather couches and lavish decor, giving an airy and cheery atmosphere to the area. Harry inhaled deeply, allowing himself some repose to enjoy the brief moment of solitude.

Of course, it was never long-lasted nowadays.

As Harry sauntered to the windows to observe the springtime scenery, the clicking of heels gradually approached him. He turned his head and gave a lopsided grin to the woman over his shoulder. Jade was a slender thing with a ruler for a spine. She was in professional attire as well, pencil skirt and navy blazer hugging her form in a flattering fashion. The glasses perched on her nose were slid down to the edge as she read something off of a tablet. Without looking up from whatever she was doing, the young woman’s voice called, “Harry, I have a list of guests that I really need you to- oh my god!” When she raised her eyes, she jumped back slightly, surprised by their close proximity. Well, to her it was close. Five feet wasn’t necessarily intimate to Harry himself. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you walk in.”

Harry waved his hand dismissively, turning on his heels to face her. “No worries, love. What list?”

Jade’s lips pursed, and she nodded, looking back down at her tablet. “There is a list of guests that will be attending the party tonight that I think you should know about,” she said, her tone almost robotic. “Mr. Payne will be attending as well as Mrs. Kraft and her husband, and of course, Mr. Horan is coming.”

Harry nodded, a genuine smile lighting up his otherwise tired face. “Niall is coming? What’s the occasion?” It wasn’t often that Niall came from his corporation headquarters in the Big Apple, so when he did come to visit, the two childhood friends made sure to make the best of their time together.

Jade couldn’t help but smile back, albeit reserved and brief. She pushed her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose and locking the tablet. “I’m afraid there isn’t one,” she said, letting her arms fall to her side, “Well, not one that he would tell me about anyway…”

Harry quirked a brow. “That he would tell you about?”

Jade shrugged at her boss, pulling her top lip between her teeth. “Nope. All he told me was that he was coming down and that he’s bringing some friends. Apparently, you know them from what I could tell. He was oddly enthusiastic about the whole ordeal.”

Harry sniffed, his brows pinching together in confusion. He scratched his jaw with the back of his thumb, popping the finger in the process before answering. “Well, I guess we’ll find out when he gets here. It’ll be fun to see some familiar faces for once. What time will he be here?”

“Not until after nine o’clock. The guests are showing up at around seven.”

“Got it. Thanks, Jade.”

“No problem.” And with that, she clacked her heels into the kitchen to his right. Once she was gone, Harry sat down on the arm of one of the couches, his eyes fixated on the swimming pool and his mind left curious. Friends? Harry thought to himself, _I haven’t heard from many “mutual friends” of Niall and I for a long, long time… Strange._

Once again, Harry’s brain asked him the simple question: _Who was it_?

***

It didn’t take long for Harry to find his answer. In fact, it took less than twenty-four hours for Harry’s life to become completely and utterly fucked.

The party was in full swing, and Harry had two glasses of champagne to permanently pull up the corners of his lips. Niall had yet to show up, but Harry was nowhere near worried, knowing that he tended to be more than fashionably late for any occasion.

He stood at the top of the stairs leading to his backyard, watching the people mingle like ants in a colony. They scurried from clique to click, the groups constantly changing apart from the obvious upper class who mainly kept to themselves and their lifted chins.

Harry was talking to one, even as they were speaking to him. He wasn’t there, not really. He was simply observing, listening to the lanky man next to him (Nick, he believed) drone on about how wonderful the party is. Harry didn’t need to be told this, for he was well aware that his home was beautiful. He made it that way on purpose…

It was the darkest hour of the spring evening, and Harry was about to pull his hair out from irritation when he heard a very distinct accent cut through the ants.

“Harry Styles! There you are! Son of a bitch,” the Irish accent greeted, rapidly approaching Harry as it climbed up the stairs. He heard a low whistle followed by, “You sure look dapper there, mate. I feel underdressed.”

Harry grinned and looked down, ignoring Nick entirely now, who simply walked off to a group of women in extravagant clothing. He met eyes with Niall Horan, who pulled him in for a bone-crushing hug as he reached the top of the stairs. “Niall! How was the trip over here?”

“Absolute shit,” the Irishman scoffee, unbuttoning the top of his red dress shirt and tugging on it repeatedly. He rolled his eyes as he fanned himself and continued, “The plane was completely packed, and first class couldn’t even save me from the waves of body heat.”

Harry cackled and threw his head back, shaking his head at Niall. “That bad, huh?”

“Dreadful, mate. Dreadful. The booze is reviving me, though. We just got here about fifteen minutes ago, and I’ve been Harry-hunting for ages now.”

“We?” Harry asked, “Who is we? Jade mentioned you brought someone who I-”

“Oh, God! Yes! This way. I can’t wait to see the look on your face!” It was all so sudden that before Harry could finish a thought, he was being dragged down the stairs by his foream, his shoulder nearly popping out of its socket.

He was guided to the other side of the pool, the fairy lights strung up in the trees blurring past as he was tugged along. The water was no longer still like it was in the afternoon, drunk people and empty bottles causing ripples and rambunctiousness to disrupt the calm flow of the water. It was fleetingly relatable.

As Niall slowed down to a normal power-walking pace, Harry looked forward at the gazebo they were approaching. He didn’t come back to the gardens very often, only when he was too stressed to work or too depressed to feel real, so he was surprised to say the least.

There were four people gathered in the white structure, all laughing and chatting amongst themselves about, from what Harry could understand, the oddity of pink carnations blooming in the autumn, which is a conversation that was odd in and of itself to Harry.

Niall stopped them abruptly at the foot of the gazebo steps, tilting his head up to the people who were still talking about the oddity of the pink flower in the fall. “Lou!” he called, childlike enthusiasm filling his words. Harry’s brows furrowed. “Lou!” he called again when he received no response. This time, the people paused for a brief moment, addressing this “Lou” before chuckling to themselves and continuing their conversation. However, a figure made its way around the others and stood at the edge of the top step.

“Aw, did you miss me?” a raspy voice teased, and Harry’s whole world was suddenly twenty degrees warmer.

Lou was short for Louis.

Louis Tomlinson.

Harry decided then that if he were to suddenly collapse due to a brain aneurysm, he would feel ten times safer than he did in that moment because Louis Tomlinson, in short, is the love of Harry’s life.

Harry suddenly felt like he was travelling through time, all the way back to when he was eighteen years old and writing stupid love letters that he would never send. As he looked at Louis now, after five years without seeing him, Harry knew that he was stupid. He had done all of this for him: create a successful name for himself, buy a luxurious house, never fallen in love. He had done everything for Louis, but those blue eyes made him realize that he should have just stayed in England where he could have sent that letter within the day. As he looked at Louis now, he didn’t see a clean shave or butterscotch hair or surprised cerulean eyes; all Harry saw was the glow of the fairy lights framing Louis in the way that an artist depicts a savior.

“Harry,” Louis’ voice flowed through Harry’s ear like a symphony, smooth and inviting. He had the kind of voice that made you lean in just because you felt like you should, like everything he said would change your life. He smiled with his eyes still obviously surprised and joked, “you cut your hair.”

Harry’s hand flew to his scalp, gripping the locks as if making sure the comment was true. He then chuckled breathily, nervously. “Yeah, I did. It was, uh, more professional for… business… and stuff.”

Louis raised one brow and dimmed his smile down to an amused smirk, stepping down two of the four steps. “And stuff?” he mimicked, laughter spilling between his words. Harry cleared his throat and let his hand fall back to his pocket, fingering the seam on the inside.

“Yes, and stuff, but mostly for business.”

“Ooh,” Louis giggled, stepping all the way down to the grass to be in front of Niall and Harry. “You’ve turned into quite the executive, haven’t you? Also, this is one of the most beautiful gardens I think I’ve ever seen!” he gushed, gesturingly vaguely to the flowers in bloom all around. “It could honestly put the Queen to shame.”

Harry let his shoulders relax fractionally, nodding. “Thank you. You did always like flowers and trees, or just being outside, really.”

“You remember that?” Louis grinned, white teeth on display as well as his expression of awe.

“Of course I do,” Harry replied, pride swelling in his chest. “I remember a lot of things.”

“Do you remember that your best friend is standing to your right?” Niall interjected, annoyance not hidden in the slightest. Louis’ eyes crinkled as he laughed, pulling his friend into a hug. Harry rolled his eyes with a smile of his own, knocking Niall’s shoulder when the two let go of each other.

“Well, you two can catch up. Do whatever you want. I’m going back to the bartender.” And with that, Niall disappeared into the mass of people. Harry turned to find Louis staring back at him with a blatant, genuine curiosity. He wished he could climb into Louis’ mind and read through every thought like a novel.

“Do parties make you claustrophobic?” Louis asked, his head tilted slightly to the left.

Harry smiled and shrugged, “A little bit, but I’ve gotten used to it. Why? Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Louis simply smiled, “If that’s okay. I do want to catch up a bit, like Niall said.”

Harry nodded, and the two then meandered their way into the house where less people occupied the space. “This way,” Harry ordered as he guided Louis to the front of the house and led him up one of the two pairs of stairs that circled the foyer. He could feel Louis’ eyes burning holes into his suit, but the warmth only served to soothe his tense muscles.

Eventually, Harry stopped at a door in the left side hallway and walked in to reveal a billiard and recreation room. There was a poil table a ways into the room, as well as a small kitchenette on the back wall and a couch facing a television hanging on the wall. The only light in the room was coming from the small lamps dispersed throughout the area, giving the room a cozy, warm-colored atmosphere.

Louis hummed lowly in the back of his throat, letting his eyes wander over the lavishness of it all. “Everything here is stupidly beautiful, Harry.” Harry looked at Louis and almost agreed, but held his tongue and shrugged.

“This room is one of my favorites,” he said instead, grabbing a cue from the wall and chalking it up. “It helps me unwind.”

Louis hummed again, grabbing a cue for himself. “Are we playing, then?” His question went unanswered verbally, but there seemed to be no need because he got into position anyways. They smiled at each other from opposite ends of the table, Harry taking the triangular frame away from the balls and setting it on a nearby chair.

There was silence for a moment as they played, a comfortable presence lingering in the air. As the yellow-striped ball sank into one of the corner slots, the conversation started up again.

“Do you have a lot of parties?”

“Yes, but I usually don’t plan them. The people who attend them do.”

“Ah,” Louis said, lining up the cue to hit. “It must be nice,” he muttered, hitting the ball and watching them knock into each other. He huffed when none of them sank in.

“What do you mean?”

Louis hesitated, twirling the cue around between his fingers before answering. "It must be nice to have parties all of the time. It gets you to step outside of yourself.”

Harry paused his movements, standing up straight and frowning at Louis. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Louis set his cue down against the table and hugged himself, shrugging. “I don’t know. I’m just thinking too much into it, I guess.” He smiled then, but Harry noted that it didn’t quite get past his lips. “Now, let’s get back to me winning this game, yeah?”

It wasn’t talked about again for the rest of the night.

***

The house was finally rid of all of the guests, and the house staff had begun to clean up the messes that they had made. The only people left were Louis and Niall, who were sitting on the steps of the backyard, looking out over the area and simply taking in the moment.

“Well, that was just as wild as every other party of yours that I’ve seen,” Niall commented, causing the other two to laugh lightly. “I’m glad we made it down here, H. I really missed you while I was in the city.”

“Me, too, Nialler,” he agreed. “Me, too. How long are you two here for?”

“Well, the building is undergoing renovations, so as long as I keep up with appointments and meetings, I can do whatever I want for the next month.”

Harry put an arm around his blonde friend and pulled him into his side with a content sigh. He realized then that Louis hadn’t said a word since they went outside about fifteen minutes ago.

“Lou,” Niall said from Harry’s chest, “Something wrong? You’re quiet, which is… weird. It’s weird.”

Louis just shook his head and continued to stare at the sky. “No, I’m fine. ‘m just taking in the moment.”

Harry gazed at Louis’ profile for a moment, drinking in his features like a fine wine. He memorized the slope of his nose, the puff of his lips, the shadows of his lashes and the prisms of blue in his eyes. He reminded Harry of a painting, the kind that isn’t famous, but the kind that you see at a small exhibit and wonder why the world hasn’t recognized its beauty. He thought Louis was far prettier than the Mona Lisa, anyways, much more complex. She certainly couldn’t smile like Louis could.

Harry then turned to watch the sky as well, as did Niall soon after him. There was [music](https://youtu.be/vGJTaP6anOU) still playing over the speakers, a slow tune that Harry recognized immediately. He was drunk, but only enough to make him not care that he was singing Elvis Presley like a dumbass.

“Take me hand, take my whole life, too…” he sang, horrendously trying to impersonate the singer, the three of them erupting into a fit of alcohol-induced giggles. They all began to sing along with as much of a Presley-esque tone as they could manage but collapsed into laughter each time.

At that moment, Harry decided that this was one of those moments that he hoped he wouldn’t forget when he’s old and wrinkled and slowly forgetting the time of day it is. He decided that even if he were to forget Niall and Louis’ names, he wasn’t going to forget the feeling he has right now, like everything was slowing down just for him, like God blinked for a slight moment to let the pressure of life lift from their shoulders to have this.

He wished that God could sleep for the next month.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely responses so far ! I'm glad that you all find this story worth the read . Continue leaving comments and kudos !! I'd love to hear from all of you about your thoughts and concerns . Enjoy ! xx

Louis and Niall had left at around three o’clock in the morning, and the house was clean when the sun came up.

Harry grumbled as his eyes opened in the morning light. The sun was heating up the air with its amber glow, the whole master bedroom tinted in peach. Harry sat up, rolling his shoulders back, and after hearing a series of pops, flopped down against the pillows once more.

His phone was half-hidden under the comforter, and he walked his fingers over to the device, picking it up and clicking the home button at the bottom: 10:43am.

Harry sighed, grimacing at the taste in his mouth and sitting up once more, blinking away the blurriness of sleep. He threw the sheets to the other side of the bed and rolled his neck and ankles before swinging his legs off the side of the frame. He hissed as the cold floor touched his toes and scurried over to the en suite, shivers running up his limbs and spine. Another window filtered in the outside’s natural light, so Harry didn’t bother with flipping the switch. Scratching his hip over the fabric of his boxer briefs and walking over to the toilet, he set his phone down precariously on top and whistled some imaginary tune as he relieved himself.

Today was Saturday, and Harry was very adamant about not giving a shit about anything on Saturdays.

He re-adjusted himself and flushed the toilet, grabbing his phone and walking back over to the closest of the two sinks. He washed his hands, periodically glancing at the other sink as he did so, wondering if anyone else would ever be around often enough to use it. Before he could think too much about it, he grabbed his toothbrush and went about the rest of his morning routine.

 

 

 

 

 

Freshly showered and blissfully apathetic to the world, Harry all but floated down the stairs and into the empty kitchen awaiting him. He tossed his phone onto the island, opening the pantry door and stepping inside to look around. There was an abundance of food he could have made: french toast, scotch eggs, and other deliciously complex meals-- but he settled for the box of s’mores Pop Tarts sitting on the edge of the shelf.

He didn’t bother heating the two toaster pastries, ripping into the flimsy packaging. He leaned against the island, unlocked his phone, and began to scroll through Twitter, barely reading any of the posts he passed by. After a few minutes of relaxing silence, Harry finally began to wake up and his phone began to ring as if on cue. The standard iPhone “Marimba” ringtone pierced the air, and Harry squinted at the name that appeared.

“Hello?”

“Harry! It’s Liam!”

Harry rolled his eyes, taking another bite of his poptart, “I know, Liam. I have your number. What’s up?”

He heard Liam as he said something, too muffled to interpret, before answering. “Right, yeah. Okay, so what are your plans today?”

Harry stared at the second, uneaten poptart on the countertop, running his tongue across the front of his teeth. “Depends on what you’re asking me.” Liam chuckled, and Harry could hear multiple unintelligible voices in the background this time, all talking over one another. Harry strained his ear to focus. “Liam, where are you right now?”

“Oh, I’m having brunch with the lads, actually. That’s why I called. Since everyone is in town, we were thinking about having a lad’s day-” A voice cut him off, “-or week. A lad’s week. We’re headed to some photo shoot location today for Louis. Then, after he does whatever it is he plans on doing, we’ll probably head to dinner. Are you in?”

Harry set the remainder of his Pop Tart on the wrapper, his brows pinching together. “Photo shoot location? Why are you going there?”

“Well, Louis wants to try out some products for work, and apparently, we’re his guinea pigs. Well, I’m not because no-fucking-way am I letting that happen.” A loud voice shouted something angrily in the background. “No!” Liam shouted back. “Anyways, Harry. Are you free today?”

Harry brushed away the minor indignation from not being initially invited to brunch, glaring at his breakfast like it betrayed him. He cleared his throat and tossed the half-eaten pastry into the open trash bin. “Yeah, I’m free. Where should I meet you guys?”

***

Harry pulled up to the Boatyard Grill at about 11:15pm with a pleasant smile on his lips. The restaurant was a ways away, but it was a charming establishment that had a view of the lake and boats drifting along its edges, awaiting their owners’ return. The sun was reaching its peak of the day, blasting gold and blue onto the earth, simply putting Harry in a good mood. He liked to think that his mood was affected by the weather.

Though his confident strut through the entrance gave him the appearance of composure, Harry’s insides were tingling with nerves. Thinking back to it, the four of them hadn’t been all together in years, three and a half to be precise. The last time they were all in one room, disaster had struck in the form of what was supposed to be a drunken celebration.

Harry shuttered inwardly at the thought.

Since then, they had all met up individually or in trios many times, but having everyone together again made him slightly nauseous if he was being honest, especially with Louis there. It felt like there was an electric current shocking his fingers repeatedly as they lay at his sides, urging him to do something that he wasn’t sure of. Harry inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, his smile never faltering as he approached the front desk.

“Hi, welcome to Boatyard Grill. How many?” the hostess greeted, sounding as though she had asked that question about a thousand times before, and of course, Harry figured that she probably had.

Harry leaned both elbows onto the wooden desk and gave her a polite smile. “Actually, I’m supposed to be meeting my mates here. Three men, all looking to be in their late twenties?”

The girl’s red curls sprung up as she lifted onto her toes for a brief second, smiling widely. “Oh, yes. They’re outside.”

Harry stood straight once more, giving her a single nod. “Thank you…” he extended the words, eyes darting to her name tag, “Casey.”

“No problem!” she chirped back, smiling at him before greeting another customer. Harry sidestepped the front desk and weaved his way through the moderately busy restaurant. The interior was far more elegant than the outside, curtains pinned up above the booths with lights, and classic white table cloths flowing gracefully to the floor.

Stepping through the second set of doors, Harry examined the tables outside. It didn’t take long for him to find his three friends at a round table by the corner, looking out over the lake. He stopped walking once the door shut behind him, watching them interact.

The three of them were clearly debating over something, but none could hold their firm expression, bursting into smiles and laughter every few sentences. They were seamless, comfortable with one another, and standing there, Harry wondered how much he had really missed.

He scratched the side of his nose with his thumb, making his way over to them. Niall saw him first, shouting and waving enthusiastically. Liam and Louis turned to find where he was looking, and Harry waved back at Niall, nodding his head once at his other friends. He took the seat next to the Irishman.

“So happy you were able to join us, Sleeping Beauty,” Louis chuckled, lifting his mug of still-steaming tea in a “cheers” motion, “We thought the corporate life had finally killed you.”

Harry laughed back wholeheartedly, along with Niall and Liam. “Oh, trust me,” he replied, “I’ve been a dead man walking since Liam transferred to my HQ.”

Liam rolled his eyes, but his expression was far from bothered. He crossed his right leg over his left knee, bobbing it up and down. He took the last bite of his scrambled eggs before saying, “You know that you would have stapled the words ‘kill me’ into your own forehead by now if I hadn’t shown up.”

Louis laughed into his hand, Harry’s eyes tracking the motion. He smiled subconsciously, laying a hand on his heart. “You’re right, Payno. Without you, my life would be in shambles. How could I ever repay you?”

“You could get the waiter for me. We need to pay so we can get going to… Where is it we’re going again, Lou?”

“We’re visiting a friend of mine. He wants me to test some new products for him, review them, negotiate if the brands are worth it, etc. before we leave for Los Angeles in May. I may as well start now,” He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes flickering to Harry briefly, then bouncing back and forth between Niall and Liam. “And lucky for you, lads, you get to be my models today!”

“What are you looking at me for?” Niall squawked, “What about Harry? He doesn’t have scruff like the rest of us… baby face, he is.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to squawk. “Excuse you? I have facial hair, Niall. I chose to shave for professional purposes.” Niall didn’t grace him with a verbal reply, just puckering his lips and lifting his hands up in defense before finishing off his plate. Harry shook his head and faced forward, lurching back a bit when he saw Louis’ stare burning holes through his skin like two blue flames. “What?” he asked, backing away from Louis’ intensity.

“You do have wonderful bone structure,” he murmured, mostly to himself, and Harry tried to suppress a smile as Louis scrunched his nose the slightest bit, “and your skin is practically flawless. I mean, if Zayn has your skin tone for concealer and foundation-- and if you're okay with it, of course-- I would love to work on you, too.”

“Woah woah woah,” Harry drawled, leaning back into his seat, “I’m a man, okay? Makeup isn’t really for me-”

“ _I_ happen to wear makeup,” Louis said without missing a beat, exaggerating the _I_. He quirked a brow, leaning back into his own chair, “on occasion.”

Harry vaguely registered Niall mumbling “shit, mate,” but he disregarded it, mentally chugging a bottle of paint plaster for not knowing when to shut his mouth.

“No!” he cried, leaning nearly halfway across the table, “No, no. I didn’t mean-”

Louis just chuckled weakly, shooing Harry back with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine, Harry. I know it’s not that common for a man to be a makeup artist. You’re in the business world, so it’s pretty much unheard of. I don’t really care as long as you don’t look down on me for it.”

“I would never look down on you for anything,” Harry immediately defended, earnest conviction clear in his voice. Louis’ cheeks darkened to a rosy color as he nodded, albeit a bit closed off, perhaps a bit suspicious. Liam and Niall shifted uncomfortably in their seats, making themselves scarce in the tense silence.

“Got it…” Louis replied, the words curt and clipped.

And it was such a minor thing, really: the guarded response he got. Louis had every right to feel hesitant around him. It just made him feel like a complete and utter bastard all over again, made him feel exactly how he had onot a few years ago, made him temporarily revert back to the version of himself he hoped had died along with the horrible memories that accompanied it.

There was a heavy moment where only the sounds of nature were present, but Louis clapped his hands, successfully ending it. “Now,” he said, notably louder than before, “Where are those checks?”

The awkward tension that had been floating around the breakfast table had dissipated in what appeared to be seconds, and by the time they had reached their cars, they had practically digressed back to their teenage years, laughing at the most ridiculous of things and acting as if the world would end within the hour.

Harry thought that maybe it might, if he didn't learn to control himself.

 

 

 

 

 

Harry pulled in next to Niall and Liam’s cars, munching on a blueberry muffin that he had gotten to go. He frowned as a few crumbles fell onto his suit jacket, grumbling around a bite of it as he stepped out of the vehicle.

He swallowed, looking up towards the entrance to see the rest of the boys waiting for him. He waved and threw the wrapper of the leftover muffin in the nearest bin. “Are you sure this is the place?” he asked, eyeing the large warehouse skeptically. “Maybe we made a wrong turn.”

Louis snorted, shaking his head. “This is the place, I promise. Sorry if it isn’t ten stories with glass walls. Not all of us like to work in a cubicle, you know.”

Harry rolled his eyes and ran his palms down his grey blazer. “I don’t work in a cubicle. I have an office.”

Louis murmured something unmistakably haughty under his breath that barely missed Harry’s ears, everyone else chorusing into laughter. They all stepped inside, Louis practically waltzing in like he owned the place.

The warehouse was stirring with life as people bustled around with armfuls of clothing and boxes so rapidly that Harry felt like he was watching the world move through the lens of a fast-motion camera.

“Welcome to _my_ office, gentlemen!” Louis all but shouted, spreading his arms in an encompassing motion, and Harry would have deemed the act more than overly-dramatic had he not also found it so endearing.

“What's the special occasion?” Liam asked, eyes trailing up and down a half-naked model as she ran by. He whistled in her direction, and to Harry’s delight, the model flipped him off without stopping or even turning around. Niall joined in on Harry’s laughing fit whilst Liam blew a kiss to the poor girl without a hint of shame.

Louis promptly slapped his friend in the chest. “I knew I should have left you behind.”

“Oh come on, Lou, I thought you liked men who ‘can appreciate art in all forms.’”

Harry made a mental note of that last bit, still silently observing the exchange.

“Shove it!” Louis’ words were venomous, but his smile gave him away. The group had settled into a more relaxed state as they reached their destination (though Harry still wasn't quite sure what it even was…) They approached what looked to be a makeshift dressing room complete with high chairs and a lit up row of mirrors. Models in various stages of dress were being fussed over by what Harry assumed to be stylists and that of the like. The group stopped abruptly behind Louis, who patted a man’s back excitedly. “Malik! I'm here for the goods.”

 _Malik_ turned around, wrapping Louis up in his arms with a greeting of his own. When they pulled away from the embrace, Harry looked him over. The man’s skin was tinted with mocha and gold, his hair and eyes dark as well. He had a full sleeve of tattoos crawling up his shoulder from his wrist, the images inconsistent in theme but altogether fascinating. He was thin, considerably so, and, had he not been holding a makeup palette of some kind, Harry would have easily mistaken him for a model.

Louis had always had an eclectic group of friends, though. When Harry started subconsciously comparing Malik to himself, he saw that the difference was glaringly obvious.

Malik set his palette down, excusing himself from the model he was working with. “Alright, this way,” he said, smiling at Louis and beginning to weave through the area. Niall, Liam, and Harry followed suit but stayed just a hair behind the chatting pair.

“This is a madhouse,” Niall muttered to his companions, wide eyes darting to a million different locations.

“I know. I'm surrounded by beautiful women, though, so I can't complain too much.”

Niall shrugged, laughing good-naturedly. “I guess not.” He then nudged Harry with his elbow, his tone turning hushed and unnervingly small in a matter of seconds, “Are you really alright with all of this, H?”

Harry frowned. “Yeah, why wouldn't I be?”

Liam scanned Harry and Niall for a long moment before patting the latter on the shoulder and walking ahead.

“Let’s wait for Lou and them outside.” There was a hint of something akin to guilt in his voice, and Harry followed the Irishman back outside without argument.

The pair leaned against the wall of the building, watching cars pass by in the parking lot for a quiet minute. Harry took a deep breath, letting his shoulders melt into the concrete pressed against them. It was peaceful, yet something heavy lingered in the midday air.

Niall was the one to break the silence with a sigh, “I'm sorry.”

Harry frowned, glancing at his friend through his peripherals. “What for?”

“I didn't tell you that I was bringing Louis along. I just… sprang that on you. It was inconsiderate.”

“Niall, it’s really-”

“If you say that it's fine, I swear to God I’ll-”

“Alright, alright. I won't say it, but can I just ask- like- why? Why is he here at all? I wouldn't think he would come willingly…”

Niall slid down the wall, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes fixated on the grill of the truck in front of them. “It was Louis’ idea, actually. I told him I was coming down here to see you with my time off, and he was pushing for us to all get together. I thought it was strange, you know, considering everything… I asked him what the sudden change was. All he said was that it wasn't really sudden, that he had never hated you. Not once-”

“I'd hate me. I do, for what I did to him.”

Niall’s eyebrows raised for a fraction of a second, his head tilting in a single nod, and he huffed out a single breath of tired laughter. “Well, the whole thing was pretty fucked, I’ll say that. But. He said he had never hated you, that all this time he had just missed you, and that ‘if he couldn't make things right, he at least wanted to make things better.’ He seemed so adamant-- you know how he gets-- and I just… let him. I didn't even think about how that might affect you, if you were ready to see him again. He got me excited because, full disclosure here, I was hoping things could start again with you two. I thought you guys were going to get fucking married, mate. I was rooting for you to get together, and well…”

“The rest is history,” Harry finished darkly. Niall hummed lowly in response.

A breeze filled the silence that followed. Harry felt childish, more than anything. He had never hated Louis, either. He was sure Louis himself knew that. It was just fear or maybe the stubbornness they both had. If what Niall had said was true, Harry agreed: he wasn't sure that things could go back to how they used to be-- _how they should have been_ , Harry mused bitterly-- but they could be better, perhaps.

The only problem was--

“I don't know if I can just be his friend, though, Niall. I really don't know if I'm strong enough for that. I never stopped loving him, and I probably never will.”

“He never stopped loving you, either, you knob!” Niall said, his face contorting into that of mild exasperation, “That was part of the whole problem.” Niall ran his hands down his face roughly. In that moment, Harry realized how tired Niall looked, like he had aged too quickly and the exhaustion of it was catching up to him. Harry felt a pang in his heart knowing that he had been a factor in that. “Listen,” Niall started again, and Harry sank to the ground with him, the weight of everything becoming too much for his legs to handle, “I know both sides of the story, and I understand both of them, but I also think of both of you were stupid in how you handled things. My opinion doesn't matter, though.” Niall rolled his head against the wall, fixing Harry with an encouraging and sympathetic smile. “I’m a friend to both of you, you can always talk to me, and I'll always have my opinion… but you and Lou’s relationship isn't mine to fix. It's up to you guys. I think it's important to recognize that Louis is trying to take a step forward. I think you should try to, too. At least try.”

Harry smiled, his eyes stinging with the threat of oncoming tears. He turned away, laughing over a sob and trying to blink them away. “You're right… you’re right. I need to grow up and stop acting like a depressed teenager.”

Niall laughed heartily at that, swinging an arm around his friend. The weight suddenly felt comforting.

The two of them chuckled and talked about the past, recalling more fond and humorous memories until they saw Liam and Louis walk out of the warehouse, a cardboard box in Louis’ hands.

“Oi! Why'd you two run off like that? I thought I'd lost you!” Louis’ voice rang like a bell, and Niall and Harry stood up, chuckling.

“Louis, I work in a cubicle for a reason. Crowds are a businessman slash recluse’s worst nightmare!” Harry defended in faux distress. He laughed at Louis shocked expression, taking the box from the smaller man’s arms and sauntering off with a smirk.

After a shocked silence, a blinding grin split Louis’ face in two. It was the first time his friends had seen it in a while. “Liam, did you hear that? Harry Styles, the business-tycoon-monochromatic-suit-wearing-extraordinaire just made a joke. Liam how are you not recording this moment? We're witnessing history!” Louis continued to ramble on from behind Harry as he set the box in the back of Liam’s car.

 _Maybe_ , he thought, _maybe I can try_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave comments and kudos !! Thank you for reading . xxx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't edited this chapter yet, but I wanted to get it out since my update schedule has been thrown off. More of the story is being revealed~

Sparrows are typically monogamous. Once they have found a mate, they tend to keep them for life, unless the mate is lost in some sort of tragedy or unfortunate event. However, should the mate die or get lost somehow, the sparrow will quickly seek out a new mate in the following season.

Harry found that this was the only difference between him and a sparrow. It felt as though, once he had lost Louis, he couldn't really recover. He had never really had him to begin with, but it felt that way. Until Parker came into the picture, he figured that he and Louis, official or not, were permanently attached. In his mind, they were inseparable.

Now, as he sat in his garden, cigarette smoke curling around the carnations, he reflected on his past choices, regretting his ignorance and his undying devotion to a potentially destroyed relationship. As he sat alone, awaiting the arrival of the other half of his heart and his friends, Harry felt his mind drift to a faraway place that he visited quite often, a place and time which he wished to--but could never--erase from his history:

 

 

 

 

_In a cozy, two-bedroom apartment, Harry sat on a leather sofa, an empty bottle of brandy laying next to him and a glass half full of its past contents and half full of ice in his hand. He glared with heavy eyes at the television, which was turned off. There was a stack of cardboard boxes that taunted him from across the room, next to the front door: boxes full of belongings that were not his but were what had made the small flat feel like home. The stark emptiness of the living room made him sigh and set the glass on the coffee table in front of him._

_A voice called from down the hall, "Haz, I think this jumper is yours. It's been in my closet for ages, but did you want it?" Harry turned around to look over the other side of the couch. The voice then had a face, one that Harry practically knew better than his own. Louis was there wearing a dark green hoodie, one that was far too large on him but flattered his frame regardless. It was_ definitely _Harry's, and Harry had definitely_ not _forgotten about it. In fact, he had_ purposely not mentioned it _in hopes that Louis would continue to wear it after he had left._

_Harry hoped--self-indulgently-- that Parker would know that he still had a claim of some kind, that Parker would see that shade of green and feel grief for the person the garment truly belonged to, that he would feel jealousy bubble up in his gut knowing that a part of Harry was still directly attached to Louis._

_Harry was also starting to become very drunk._

_Louis noticed, sighing at his best friend. "Harry, you really need to slow down on the drinking. I love you, and I just don't want it to become a problem..."_

_Harry scoffed, standing on wobbly legs as he rounded the couch. "What will it matter anyways?" he lamented sardonically, "It's not like there'll be anyone to stop me in a week's time."_

_"Haz-"_

_"Oh, save it," Harry interrupted, not giving Louis a second glance as he stumbled into the kitchenette, "I'm just... sad... sad and not making sense."_

_He heard Louis before he saw him again. As he opened the fridge in search of a water bottle, Louis' footsteps padded into the kitchen, and he came into his peripheral view. "Hey." Harry closed his eyes, willing himself not to respond with something he might regret. "Harry, look at me... please."_

_Harry grabbed a water bottle and shut the fridge slowly, taking a deep breath before reopening his eyes and looking back. The pain and simmering bitterness must have been evident in his eyes, as Louis frowned deeply upon meeting them. "Harry, you know I'm not leaving your life just because Parker and I are moving in together, right? You're still my best friend," he assured gently, face sunken in melancholy._

_"Right. Of course," Harry murmured, clipped and reserved. Anything more and he was sure he would have broken down. Just looking at Louis in that moment made him want to crumble onto the floor like a bird shot in flight._

_Louis' shoulders sagged, and his expression changed to that of subtle distress. Harry only gave him with a forced smile and backed away to the waste bin, opening his water bottle and throwing out the cap._

_"What do you want from me, Haz? Just tell me what you want-"_

_"I want you to leave him," Harry said, the words concrete and more coherent than anything he'd said in the past hour and a half since he'd started drinking._

_Louis licked his lips, breath hitching. His voice was level and knowing, a bit anticipatory. "Why?" Not the answer he had been expecting, Harry stilled, eyes widening. "Why do you want me to break up with Parker?" he elaborated. Louis' whole body looked as though it was holding itself hostage, keeping him from moving. "Tell me, and I'll stay."_

_Louis and Harry were two sides on the same coin: both completely still, both wide-eyed and shallow breathed, both anxiously anticipating Harry's response. However, where Louis waited with hope, Harry halted with contemplation._

_Both of them knew what this all meant. It was more than evident that Louis wanted Harry to just say it, and Harry wanted to say it more than anything. If he laid it all out on the table now, Louis would drop everything; Harry knew he would. They could start everything that the both of them had ever wanted... but, Harry hesitated. He kept himself from saying the one thing that could change everything._

_In his intoxicated state, Harry felt that this wasn't right, not now. Louis was in a committed relationship, and--as much as Harry loathed that fact with every fiber of his being-- he felt like he was keeping Louis from being happy instead of being stuck. He supposed that maybe Louis was just afraid of taking a step forward and away from him._

Saying it now... it would only hold him back.

_Harry would now muse that he was a glutton for his own misery._

_"I..." he had taken in the shape and fine details Louis, standing there, waiting, looking like everything he had ever dreamed of, hands clutching the oversized sleeves of his sweatshirt, eyes widened with hope and expectation, hair messed up and feathery from running his hands through it over and over. Standing there, Louis looked like the sea does to a sailor just before he boards his ship._

_Harry stepped away from the shore of his desires. "I'm very drunk, Louis. I don't know what you're talking about."_

 

 

 

 

Harry resented the fact that he couldn't remember much else of what happened after that. He remembers Louis not saying another word, nodding, and locking himself in his bedroom. He remembers finishing off his glass of brandy, and then a beer, and then another. And another, until he was locking himself in his own room, crying like he wasn't the one who had ruined it for himself. For them.

They had both cried, the truth that had gone unspoken written into the wall that separated them. Looking back, Harry realized that he had been wrong. He used to believe that he had given up at that point, but it was clear to him now--as he put out the remainder of his cigarette in the ashtray-- that it was simply a matter of naivety, of pride covered up by his own deluded idea that all of it was selfless.

He crinkled his nose, knowing that that wasn't even the worst of what had happened. That wasn't what truly ruined everything for them, what got them to where they were now. It was only the precursor to that event. A turning point.

Harry heard the doorbell ring distantly and stood up, composing himself as he walked through the open backdoors of his home.

Niall let himself in, Louis and Liam trailing behind him.

"Why did you bother ringing the bell if you were just going to walk in anyways?" Harry chuckled weakly, still dropping the memories he had been recollecting on the floor as he walked.

"That was me, actually," Louis chirped from Niall's side, shifting the box in his arms, "he decided to walk in anyways, despite me telling him how rude it was."

"He doesn't care," Niall retorted, rolling his eyes and patting Harry's shoulder, who shrugged in response.

"Is there anywhere I can set this down, for now?" Louis asked, lifting the box slightly.

Harry swiveled his torso and pointed towards the kitchen. "The counter's fine, if you want."

"Cheers!" Louis smiled, passing Harry and making his way toward the island.

Niall and Liam stayed behind, watching carefully as Louis rounded the corner. "Are you okay? Is it because of what we were talking about earlier?" Niall asked in a hushed manner, frowning and resting a hand on Harry's forearm. Harry shook his head, waving his hand dismissively.

"Niall, it's fine, really. 'M just tired, is all."

"Are you sure?" Liam interjected, eyes darting over Harry's shoulder as he spoke. "If you want us to leave-"

"Guys," Harry drawled, "we aren't twenty anymore. We're adults, and we can act like it. I promise, everything's fine."

"You'll tell us the second you feel overwhelmed, Harold Edward," Niall commanded, index finger jabbing into Harry's chest.

Harry smiled, "you have my word, Niall James."

Niall nodded, face solemn as he headed towards the kitchen. Liam laughed lightly at the exchange, looking to Harry and nodding his head in the direction Niall and Louis went before walking that way as well. Harry followed, his posture more relaxed than before.

Laughter filtered through the open house, a sound Harry found he quite liked outside of a party setting. Louis and Niall were giggling like schoolgirls as Louis pulled out various makeup products.

Liam grimaced as he neared the pair. Louis laughed harder at his friend's expression. "Oh, come on. It isn't that scary."

"I'm not scared," Liam argued, though his eyes were still eyeing the box warily, "I just don't know anything about this stuff, Lou."

"You don't have to," Louis grinned, "you just have to sit there and look pretty." He flicked Liam's nose with a fanned brush of some kind, and Liam spluttered, retreating back to Harry's side of the counter.

"God save us all."

Harry eyed Louis for a moment before picking up a tube of lipstick. "I don't know. I think we should at least give it a shot." He opened the tube and twisted the bottom, observing the pale, pink shade that came out. "No one outside of this room has to know, Li, if you're scared of losing your manhood." He grinned and cackled as Liam shoved him forcefully.

"You're the one that said 'oh, I'm a hotshot businessman, I don't wear makeup!'"

"I've changed, Liam! I haven't been to the office for a whole week. I'm finally discovering what it means to be in the twenty-first century!"

"You two are insufferable," Louis laughed, setting the box on the opposite counter. "Okay," he exhaled, clapping his hands together as he looked over the contents of the counter, "what to do, what to do..."

Harry set the lipstick down, eyes on Louis, who was organizing the makeup into sections of some kind. It was strange, how simple it all appeared to be. It almost seemed like Louis had forgotten that they hadn't spoken in three and a half years, like it had never even happened. He wondered if Louis was hiding some kind of anxiety like he himself was.

Louis' eyes would occasionally flicker to Harry, and he would then fuss with his hair or his clothes and continue with what he was doing. Or he would clear his throat and straighten his posture, all things that Harry used to pinpoint as self-consciousness, and it was sad to think that he may be wrong now. He could know little to nothing about Louis anymore, about his mannerisms or his habits, the things that Harry spent hours memorizing when they lived together.

He backed out of his reverie more quickly than he had entered it.

"Harry, since you're so progressive, you can be my first victim!" Louis said, a cautious grin on his face.

Harry smiled back and rounded the counter, heart pounding obnoxiously and inconveniently. "Fine, if you insist."

Louis dragged one of the bar stools in front of him, patting the wooden seat for Harry to sit on. Louis pushed away the makeup that was scattered on the granite save for one of the little collections he had sorted earlier.

They faced each other now, only surface-level emotions on both of their faces. Louis' smile dropped suddenly, his face flushing. "Um," he stuttered, breaking eye contact and turning towards Liam and Niall, "this may take a while. If you guys want to... go do something, you don't have to stay."

Niall's eyes widened, and his mouth opened and closed a few times before Liam responded for him. "Uh, yeah, sure. Harry?"

Harry was barely able to speak, but he managed. "Anywhere's fine. You can use the pool, even, if you want."

"Right," Niall nodded once. "Sick. We'll go find swim trunks from Jade or something."

"Yeah... okay. I think she's in my study."

And just like that, Louis and Harry were alone for the first time in years.

A cloud had settled over the room, heavy with rain that wouldn't fall. The outside world, however, attempted to remind the pair that not all was dark and heavy; sparrows in the garden sang a soothing tune, and the sun filtered in to reinstate its relevance.

Louis busied himself, hands a bit unsteady as he opened a small bottle and poured a beige liquid on the back of his hand.

Harry raised a brow in question when Louis met his eyes. Louis huffed out a breath of a laugh and replied quietly, "primer and foundation."

Harry hummed, nodding slowly. Louis dabbed a small, tear-shaped sponge onto his hand, pausing to examine Harry, who fidgeted under the stare.

"Okay," Louis said, his voice small and timid, "I'm just gonna-" he made a tapping motion with the sponge near his own cheek. "This just kind of goes all over." Louis leaned forward and gently-- barely there, even-- pressed the tips of his fingers on Harry's jaw, putting feather-light pressure there to turn his head when needed.

Harry smiled, "No need to explain. Just tell me what you want, and I'm your guy." Louis giggled breathily, stopped, and examined his work before nodding and setting the sponge down on the counter and grabbing another product.

The sun appeared from behind a cloud, the room glowing a tint brighter than before.

Louis continued to work in silence, giggling behind closed lips at Harry's various reactions to the work going into the makeup. Niall and Liam eventually passed by, chattering and laughing on their way outside until they passed the kitchen, when they slowed down and hushed themselves. Louis had paused, giving them a look that Harry himself couldn't see, but he could tell by Liam and Niall's suddenly quick retreat to the backyard that it must have been pointed.

Harry was composed and sank into the serene atmosphere of the scene. He would quietly ask what certain objects were, and Louis would politely give him an explanation. They talked about the weather and superficial, trivial things. The conversation flowed easily enough, more so that either of them probably thought it would given the time spent apart and the reasons why.

However, all good things must come to an end, and Harry's forwardness had always had a clever way of fucking him over.

"So, how are you and Parker doing?"

Louis all but dropped the brush he was holding onto the countertop, slowly turning to Harry with a bewildered expression.

 _Fuck_.

Louis schooled his features at an alarming speed, and his eyes suddenly looked grey instead of blue. "We broke up."

"Oh," Harry mumbled, "um, when- uh- when did that ... happen? I'm sorry."

Louis stood straight, eyes seeming to burn straight through Harry's. "Three years ago." Harry had a sudden impulse to stab himself in the eye with the tweezers sitting to his left.

_How the fuck did he not know that?_

"I thought you knew that."

"I didn't."

Louis exhaled sharply, putting the sponge down with a little more aggression than necessary. Harry frowned, "Lou?"

"You... you really didn't know?" Louis sounded like he was either on the brink of tears or some kind of revelation. Harry could nearly hear cogs turning.

"No. I had no idea. Honest."

"That..." Louis looked to the ground, then pivoted and gripped the counter, like he physically couldn't look at Harry. "That's... Harry, if you're lying to me I'm going to be very, very upset."

"I'm not lying, Lou, what are you-"

"Guys!" Liam's voice echoed through the house along with the sound of water splashing on the tile. "Are you done? Come swim with us!" Liam rounded the corner, halting his words and steps upon seeing the Louis' unidentifiable appearance and Harry's own alarmed one. He opened his mouth to speak, but Louis cut him off.

"Yeah. Pretty much. I tested what I needed to." He turned to Harry, and, unexpectedly, Harry saw him smiling, and it wasn't forced. It almost looked relieved or... "You want to get that shit off your face and go for a swim?"

Harry was too confused and too curious for words to give a verbal reply.

He nodded, and as he went through the motions of changing in his room not a minute later, he still couldn't speak.

_Why on Earth had Louis had that kind of reaction?_

 

 

 

 

 

He received no answer that day, but later, when everyone was tired out and the sun had begun to set, they all sat in the garden, the fire pit warming their shivering bodies.

Niall was playing some shitty, obscure music off of his phone, and they were roasting marshmallows. When he began to sing along obnoxiously to the tune, Louis leaned over and whispered to Harry whilst grabbing another marshmallow, "I'm glad you didn't know."

Though more lost than he had been before, Harry felt the warmth of the fire blanket his heart, something akin to hope settling there. The question still remained: why would Louis be happy about that?

But the familiar look in Louis' eyes, that soft blue gaze set Harry's mind at ease, and he felt their expressions begin to mirror one another.

Whatever the answer was, Harry knew that he would find out soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment !! And leave kudos ! Also, I know this chapter is short, but it's meant to be . Bear with me here, folks ! xx
> 
> Again, comments and kudos !

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and tell me what you think of the story so far . I have been gone for ... far too long . However, this story has been in my mind for months, and I would love to hear your opinions on the story as it unfolds .


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